


In Which Baz is the One Who Goes Off

by abi_lynne



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Domestic, Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, SnowBaz, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:05:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abi_lynne/pseuds/abi_lynne
Summary: I wrote this for something else and then realized that all of my characters are somewhat based on Simon and Baz and there's nothing I can do about it. Also in this, Daphne and Baz have more of a mother-son relationship than they do in canon, so there's that. Enjoy!





	In Which Baz is the One Who Goes Off

“Don’t you think he ought to get away for a bit? Maybe longer than a bit? He looks exhausted.”  
Before Simon could respond, he heard a loud clunk and looked over at Baz, the “he” in question.  
Baz had set his tea down a bit too rough, and some had spilled over the sides. “Don’t talk about me when I’m sitting right here,” he said through clenched teeth.  
Simon handed Baz a paper towel, looking worriedly across the table at him, concerned. Both because of the anger and because, in fact, Baz did look exhausted. He had for weeks.  
“I’m just saying, Basilton, I think you could should take a chance every now and then. There’s lots of jobs out by Bloomingdale, you know.” Daphne’s false concern for her stepson was far too exhausting to listen to, Simon decided.  
He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Baz cut in, clenching the now damp paper towel too tightly with one hand, “I’m not moving to Bloomingdale, Daphne.”  
“Oh, but darling, wouldn’t it be nice to be nearer to your father and I?”  
“And me.” Simon muttered, taking a sip of his tea.  
“What was that, dear?”  
“Oh – nothing.”  
“No, what did you say, Simon?” Baz’s frustration turned on Simon now, the narrow eyes and clenched jaw creating what felt like a red fog in the room.  
The fog suddenly spread to Simon now too, responding, rather matter-of-factly, “She said, ‘your father and I’. It should’ve been ‘your father and me’.”  
Baz sighed heavily before Simon had even finished speaking, “Why do you have to pick fights over –”  
“I wasn’t picking fights, I –”  
“You didn’t have to say anything! You could’ve just shut your mouth and left Daphne alone to pester me herself. She doesn’t need any help.” Baz shot at him.  
Simon stopped at this. He didn’t want to fight, period, but he especially didn’t want to fight in front of Baz’s stepmother. Taking a breath, he stood and walked around to the sink, poured out his mug of tea, and turned back towards the table. “I’m taking a walk. I’ll see you later.”

 

Baz never liked it when his stepmother visited. But now, as the door clicked shut behind Simon, Baz decided he hated it when his stepmother visited. Baz and Daphne always fought, and then Simon and Baz always fought, and then Baz was reminded of how much his parents would’ve loved to have a son like Simon, rather than a son like himself, and that just made him more bitter than he had been during all the fighting. It made for quite a mess.  
There was a short, blissful moment of silence, and then Daphne spoke, softly, as if afraid to disturb the anger that had been there a moment before. “This tea is rather bitter.”  
“Would you like some sugar?”  
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”  
Baz resisted rolled his eyes. His stepmother had been here close to a hundred times. She knew where the sugar was. She knew that she was welcome to it. She knew that it was right next to her, sitting on the counter, and she knew that it would’ve been easy to take a spoon from the drawer and get herself some sugar. And yet, calmly, Baz went and got a spoon and handed his stepmother the sugar. The frustration that had clouded his mind had left with Simon, and now he just felt tired. He rather wished Daphne would leave.  
“So have you spoken to Simon about moving?”  
Baz heaved a heavy sigh, “No, Daphne, I have not spoken to Simon about moving.”  
“Well, I rather think that he’d be open to the idea, don’t you? I do believe he’d do well in Bloomingdale, don’t you?”  
Baz looked up, made eye contact with his stepmother, and examined his options. He could lie. Say that Simon hated the idea of moving, that he refused to even consider the thought of it. He could appease Daphne. Give her some hope. Say they were thinking about it, actually, that Simon had started looking at apartments for the two of them, that they were rather entertained by the idea. Instead of these (rather smart) options, he chose (the not-so-smart option) honesty.  
“I’d like you to leave now, mother.”


End file.
